because, life.

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He really will eat anything

Never, ever take advice from me on potty training. Or dealing with a biter. Or household organization. But on food… I really think I got food right. I don’t think any of my children will have eating disorders. Certainly none is a picky eater. To wit:

Ender: I want some of that!

Cinder: Really, Ender? Do you know what I’m eating? It looks like chocolatey-cereal, but it’s actually rabbit poop.

Ender: Really?

For the record–no. It really was chocolatey cereal. Koala Crisps. We may eat with vermin at the table, but we’re not that gross.

Cinder: Really.

Ender: I never try rabbit poop. I want some!

Cinder: Well, we’re all out. If you really want some, we have to go the Common and gather some up. That’s what I did.

Ender: OK!

This is the point at which a good normal mother would say, “For heaven’s sake, Cinder, just give your brother some of your cereal!” Or, better yet, get the poor three year old some cereal. But not this one. This one just sat there and took notes:

Cinder: OK, dude. Go put on your coat and shoes.

Ender: I hope rabbit poop is delicious.

Wait, did I say I got the whole food thing right? My kids are going to need therapy, aren’t they.

I was howling at this! As the oldest child, this is exactly the kind of stuff I continually I pulled on my younger sisters. I had one convinced once you got older you “butt crack” actually grew closed and you no longer had to worry about pooping. Oh dear. Kids are a since bunch. Lol!